Heero and the Telemarketer
by Tiva
Summary: Almost everyone has encountered a telemarketer, the poor person who will try to sell their product at all costs. Everyone except Heero... A collection of short stories featuring the GW cast!
1. Heero and the Telemarketer

Disclaimer: Sadly, do not own Gundam Wing. Even more sadly, do not own Duo. Lawsuits will be krispy-fried by Deathscythe.

A/N: A bizarre idea my friend and I came up with while rollerblading. *scratches back of head* Please don't ask… ^_^V

Heero and the Telemarketer

Riiiiiing.

Riiiiiing.

"He~llo!" Duo cheerfully answered the phone. He listened for a moment, blinked a few times, then interrupted the person on the other end. "Just a minute." Hurriedly covering the mouthpiece, he thrust the phone at Heero, whom was working on his laptop at the small table. Even holed up in their small hideaway as they were, Wing's pilot still felt it was necessary to be glued to his screen. He blinked as the phone was thrust at him.

"You take the call. I'll be out waxing Deathscythe!" Dropping the phone like a hot potato into Heero's unsuspecting hand, the braided pilot made tracks for the doorway and freedom. Heero watched him go, then raised the phone to his ear.

"What?" he demanded gruffly. 

The voice at the other end was male, and sounded absurdly cheerful. Large doses of caffeine were suspect. "Hello! I'm calling to know if you would be interested in purchasing a set of customer-satisfaction-guaranteed mint-condition federally approved cosmetic supplies! For the low price of fifty dollars, you can be the lucky owner of not one, but two cases of accessories that can make you look twenty years younger!"

Heero interrupted. "If I looked twenty years younger, I wouldn't be alive. Who is this? What government are you working for? Are you a spy for OZ?"

The man on the other end faltered. "What?"

"How did you get this number?" demanded Heero, glancing around the insides of the bunker. Was the place bugged?…he'd looked over it earlier, but could he have missed something?…

"You know, we just have a list that we dial numbers from. I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"And I don't know why you would think I would want to buy makeup," answered Heero at his icy-coolest. 

"Well…" The man trailed off. "Look, I'm just doing my job!"

"So you are an OZ spy!"

"Yes? No! Look, do you want to buy our product or not?" pleaded the frazzled caller.

"Omae o korosu."

click

Duo poked his head back in cautiously, to see Heero rapidly packing up his things. "Hey, hey, what's going on?"

"They found us. Somehow they got this number, and now they know we're here."

"Heero, Heero!" laughed Duo. "There are some things about the world that you still need to know about!" He slung an arm over the other boy' shoulder, and ignoring the glare he got, steered him over to the threadbare couch, pushing Heero into a sitting position, then flopping down next to him. The couch gave an ominous groan and sank a few inches.

"Haven't you ever heard of telemarketers?"

A/N: See that button down there? It's blueish. Square. You would make me very happy if you clicked it. Won't you please? ^_^


	2. Duo and the Telemarketer

Duo and the Telemarketer

Disclaimer: I own Dream. I don't own Gundam Wing and associated characters…yet. *evil laughter*

It was a typical clichéd beautiful summer day. Duo didn't mind it that way. He preferred the heat. Lounging on a lawn chair, dressed in an almost blindingly bright Hawaiian shirt and tan shorts, a glass of lemonade held loosely in one hand, he was the picture of relaxed summer bliss. Nothing could destroy the peaceful tranquility of this day—

_RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!_

Well alright, maybe one thing.

_RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!_

Duo sat up, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head and squinting in the sunlight at the direction of the noise.

_RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!_

"Might as well get it now…"

_RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!_

He swung himself lightly off the chair and loped towards the house. Getting there, he skidded to a halt in front of the phone just in time to grab it before it went to the answering machine. 

"Hello!" he gasped. "Q-man, is that you?"

The voice on the other end paused for a fraction of a second, then replied. It was feminine, and sounded a bit tired, but resolved to stay cheerful. "Hello! You've been chosen out of a lucky seven to try our new herbal shampoo, Dream! Dream is guaranteed to keep your hair silky and shining 24/7, while at the same time supplying essential vitamins and minerals that you need to give your beautiful locks healthy and happy! For the low price of—"

"Excuse me, lady, but does where you're working have any windows?" Duo punched a few commands into a mini computer near his phone, tracing the call back to its source.

The woman was a bit taken aback. "Well…no, but—"

"Do you know what a beautiful day it is outside? The sun is shining like there's no tomorrow, the birds are singing like crazy, and people are all over the place having _fun_! You should join them!"

"Look, sir, this doesn't have anything to do with—"

"After all, miss," and Duo smiled a particularly humorless smile, "you never know when you're going to die. You should spend all the time you can enjoying yourself!"

The woman's voice began to loose its resolve. It had been a looong day… "Sir, I really can't just leave! I have my job to think of! If I left, my boss would get mad, and he might fire me!"

"You do have a lunch break, right? In about…" Duo checked his watch, "fifteen minutes. Nothing to worry about! I can be there in about ten minutes, just in case. We can go to the park and get ice cream, then go on the boats, chase pigeons…"

"But I only have half an hour…"

"So we'll make every second count! I'll be waiting by the entrance, ok? Oh, and put me down for a carton of that shampoo."

"How do you know where…Did you say a carton?!" gasped the woman in surprise.

"Well, yeah," grinned Duo, fondling his braid lovingly. "I have long hair!"

A/N: Wow…I've never gotten that many reviews in such a short amount of time. Love you all! *hugs* Due to suggestions made by several of you wonderful people, I've decided to extend this former one-shot into an epic spanning the five GW boys. A question remains, however. Do I stop there, or keep going along the 'numbers'? (Zechs, Noin, Une, Treiz) And perhaps put in the girls of GW as well? Let me know what you think! ^_^ Until we meet again…review please!

Next up: Trowa!


	3. Trowa and the Telemarketer

Trowa and the Telemarketer

Disclaimer: *laughs hysterically* MY Duo! MY Zechs! *hugs plushie dolls of the entire male cast of GW*

Duo and Zechs: No matter what she says, we're not hers! None of us are! *they run away* 

"Alright, up. Higher…higher…almost…there. Good." Trowa nodded at the lion in front of him that was standing up on its back legs, and gave it a piece of meat from a bucket next to him. The lion snapped it languidly from his fingers, then rubbed its head against Trowa's leg, purring thunderously. He smiled slightly and scratched the giant cat behind the ears.

A shrill sound interrupted the training. Both Trowa and the lion blinked, then Trowa took his cell phone out of his back pocket. It was trilling a section of a classical piece. Done on flute. He pressed a button and the music stopped.

"Yes?"

Instead of one of his fellow pilots, the voice that greeted Trowa wasn't one he'd heard before. As the man talked, he memorized the voice pattern for later identification, should the need arise.

"Good day, sir! I would like to interest you in our product: a brand of cat food that is scientifically proven to increase your cat's metabolism, and introduce much-needed nutrients into its diet! By using this food, your cat could grow to twice its original size, and by completely natural means!"

Trowa cast a slow look over the lion that was still ravishing his leg with affection. A small smile quirked over his face, gone in an instant. He turned his attention back to the phone.

"Tell me, what kind of cats does this food affect?"

"Every cat! Proven through extensive laboratory experimentation!"

"Are you sure? There must be different food for different sizes of feline."

"Well of course! We wouldn't want to give kitten food to a fully-grown cat!"

"I understand. And how much is this food being sold for?"

"You can receive not one, but two bags of this wonder cat food for the low, low price of $19.99!"

"Hmm." The brief smile flitted across Trowa's features again. Leaning over, he caught the lion's attention, and gave it the hand signal to stand up on its hind legs again, nodding in approval when it did. A scrap of meat was given as reward. "I think I may consider your offer. Tell me, how big of a cat does this formula support?"

"Up to thirty pounds!"

Trowa bit his lip to stifle a rather out-of-character laugh. "Well then, I'm afraid that I cannot purchase your product."

The man's voice became rather alarmed. "Sir, exactly how heavy is your cat?"

"About…five hundred ninety-three pounds," replied Trowa, looking down at the lion. He then gave it the hand signal to 'speak'.

An ear-shattering roar split the quiet of the training grounds, carrying quite clearly through the phone to the man on the other end. There was a sharp gasp of surprise, then the line went dead.

Trowa gave the lion another piece of meat.

A/N: All you lovely people reviewing! I'm so happy! Due to your fabulous encore-ing, I'm going to do _everyone_! 'Numbers' and the girls! So, look forward to that, ne? However, it would be a great help if you all could offer suggestions as to what kind of products should be sold to what people. Anyone been plagued by a telemarketer lately? Ideas! I need ideas! *cough* After all, I've got… *counts* …about eleven more people! And if I don't use your idea(s), _please_ don't take offense! *bows* It's all in fun. See you later! And don't forget to review! ^_~

Next up: Quatre!


	4. Quatre and the Telemarketer

Quatre and the Telemarketer

Disclaimer: This is getting old…how about you all just refer to the first chapter if you want a disclaimer? I REFUSE TO WRITE A DISCLAIMER FOR THE NEXT TEN CHAPTERS!!!! *ahem* 

The villa was a large, sprawling complex, situated near a beach, a freshwater lake, and a pine forest. It was the favorite vacation spot of its owners, who frequented it as much as possible. Currently however, there were only a few people occupying it. The rest of the usual residents were out sightseeing and shopping. From the forest, came the sound of a powerful voice.

"…nineteen….twenty! I'm coming for you, Master Quatre!" The Maganac turned away from the tree that he'd been counting at, and set off deeper into the forest, hunting for the blonde-haired boy. Nestled in the top branches of a Douglas fir tree, Quatre watched the Arabian beneath him with a playful smile, trying to stifle a laugh as the man walked right under his tree.

His silent jubilation was broken by a vibration at his hip. Thanking the Fates that he had set his cell phone for quiet mode, he pulled it carefully out of his pocket, trying to keep his balance at the same time. Putting on the earpiece, he pressed 'talk', not daring to speak above a whisper.

"Hello, Quatre here."  He winced at the reply that seemed to him to be incredibly loud.

"Hello and good evening to you! During your travels, you might have noticed that the price of perfume has gone up drastically. So I'm going to offer you a once-in-a-lifetime deal here—a bottle of your favorite scent, for the meager price of $9.99!"

"Excuse me?" In his surprise, Quatre almost forgot to keep his voice down.

"This is a limited time offer, so make sure to take the chance as it comes!"

"I don't think you understand, miss. I'm not interested in perfume—"

"Surely you have a loved one that would be delighted with such a gift?"

"Miss, I'm trying to tell you, I don't want—"

"Sir, you seem like a reasonable man to me. Now, maybe you have a sister that you can get our product for! I'm sure she would love to receive her favorite perfume!"

One of Quatre's eyebrows twitched. Telemarketers had called the house before, but Rashid had always dealt with them. Now he wished that he'd paid more attention when such a thing had happened. "Miss," he began, with his customary gentleness, "please listen to me. I'm quite serious when I say that I don't—"

"Oh, but sir—"

_"Stop interrupting me!"_ shouted Quatre, finally loosing it. "I don't CARE how much you want to sell your product, but it isn't polite to keep cutting me off like that!"

"I—"

"_Please_, miss, just listen to me! There are other ways to convince a person to buy something besides mowing over their protests." He was about to say more, when he heard a clamor of voices. Female ones. Returning home fresh from shopping.

Quatre thought for a moment.

"I apologize for being so rude to you, miss. I lost my head for a moment there."

The woman sounded relieved. "It's…alright, really."

"And I've changed my mind. I would like to purchase…29 bottles of perfume."

"29?!"

"Yes…" he did a mental count, "…that's right. 29. Do you deliver?"

"Um…sir, you do realize that only one sample is $9.99?…"

"Yes, why?"

"Um…no reason. We do deliver! If you'll just supply your address…"

Quatre gave the address and the perfumes that he wanted, then hung up, a smile on his face. A smile that quickly disappeared as thick arms wrapped around him from behind, causing him to emit a startled squeak.

"Found you! Hard not to, with the way you were shouting." The Maganac grinned, releasing his catch. "Who was it on the phone?"

"Oh, someone." The blonde-haired boy smiled secretively at the taller man, and the two of them climbed down the tree to greet the returned members of Quatre's family.

A/N: How was it? Horrible? Wonderful? If you didn't catch the reference, Quatre has 29 sisters. ^_^ Hence the number of perfume bottles. Isn't he a sweet brother? Uwa~…this chapter took a bit more thought than the three previous ones. _ Thank you all for your suggestions! *hugs* Until we meet again…

Next up: Wufei!


	5. Wufei and the Telemarketer

Wufei and the Telemarketer

Disclaimer: I know I said I wasn't going to do any more of these… *heh* Don't own the magazine mentioned. :D

The soft whispering of a gentle breeze through bamboo curtains was the only sound that permeated the mountain retreat. Even the birds had gone silent, for there was a storm approaching, and any animal with an inch of sanity had fled for safety. 

Wufei opened his eyes and smiled thinly, staring out over the valley. Yes, it was going to be a storm, the likes of which had not been seen in these parts for quite some time.

He shifted his weight slightly, seated with his legs crossed in a meditative position. His hands rested lightly at his sides, and his back was ramrod-straight. Normally he could sit in one place for hours without moving, but the impending weather change was making him restless. Still, he closed his eyes again, seeking inner peace. Slowly, gradually, he withdrew deeper into himself, looking for his center. He envisioned his emotions as an ocean, and began to rise above the waves…

…And was snapped abruptly out of his trance by an insistent noise that was most certainly NOT the wind.

As his senses turned outward, he realized that the ringing in his ears was actually the ringing of a phone. Cursing his weakness at being conned by Quatre into having a telephone line strung to his private retreat, he unfolded from his seated position and was next to the phone in a few quick strides. He jerked the receiver off the cradle irritably, and held it to his ear. 

"What?"

Am I speaking to the master of the house?"

"The…Who is this? If this is another joke, Duo…"

"Excuse me, but could I talk to one of your parents?"

Wufei bristled. "I'M the 'master of the house'!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. You see, we have a special going on. If you order now, you can receive twelve months of Woman's World for the extra-low price of $29.99! And as a bonus, we'll throw in a back-issue, free of charge! *cough*nominalshippingandhandlingfees*cough*"

"What was that?" demanded the Chinese boy, one eyebrow hiking itself up on his forehead. 

"Free of charge!"

"After that!" Wufei paused. "What did you say? Woman's Planet?"

"World, sir!"

The silence that oozed from Wufei's end of the line was equal to the silence outside…the silence before a storm. Finally, he spoke, slowly, with a great deal of controlled rage.

"What makes you think…that I would want a _woman's_ magazine?"

"Well, we have exclusive new material each week, consisting of a large range of things, such as dieting—"

An eyebrow twitch on the Chinese's part.

"—fashion—"

A grinding sound as teeth were clenched tightly together.

"—horoscopes—"

A fist, clenching tightly as the boy assessed the phone, seeing what the weakest part was that would make destruction simple…

"—and of course, recipes!"

Wufei slowly took the phone away from his ear. He stared at it for a moment.

Then he took great satisfaction in breaking it in half.

Going back to his original spot, he sat and arranged his limbs in comfort. Closing his eyes, he let his consciousness drift away, with a predominate feeling of smugness coloring his emotions. 

A/N: *snicker* Aiya…dear, dear Wu-man. And all these reviews! I've never had so many before! You know, I use to hate reviewing? Thought it was a waste of time to write one, especially if a person already had a lot of them. Then I signed up for FF.N, got my first review, and drastically changed my opinion. How could I have been so stupid?! Reviews are wonderful! Writing them AND getting them! *-* Thank you, everyone! See you next chapter!

Next up: Zechs! *oozes into happy puddle* 


	6. Zechs and the Telemarketer

Zechs and the Telemarketer

Up and down, up and down, up and down…oops. Missed a spot. 

Zechs dipped his brush in the bucket next to him, and filled in the paint gap with a quick stroke, then moved over to keep going down the wall. The color, a pale peachy-cream, was pleasing to the eye, but the smell was beginning to make him feel a bit heady. He decided that it was time for a break.

Standing up and stretching, he set the brush down on the drop cloth and left the room, pausing to turn around and survey his progress. Good. He continued down the hall.

This entire project was due to Relena's suggestion that they reuse the many army bunkers, and turn them into homes for children who had been orphaned in the war. This took a bit of doing, however, as the buildings were ominous in the most conservative sense of the word. So it was up to Zechs and a team of volunteers to wreak a transformation upon the gloomy gray bunkers.

It had been slow going at first, the team coming across problem after problem, but finally, they'd gotten the paint order, and the inside of the building was starting to look far less foreboding. 

A noise intruded on Zech's private musings, and he turned automatically to the phone hastily installed at the far end of the hall. Picking it up, he asked "Please tell me that there isn't another shipment late…"

"Good morning sir, how are you?"

"I'm fine…did you get the paint supplies that we ordered?"

"Sir?"

"We scheduled for them to be delivered this evening. Is everything going according to plan?"

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, this isn't a shipping company…"

"Then who are you?" asked Zechs, blinking.

"…I'm a telemarketer."

"Really? I've heard about you people. Is it true that you do anything to sell your product?"

"Well, it's my job, so I try to do it well, sir, but I don't think that 'anything' is the right word for it…"

Zechs frowned. "I don't think that I'm the person that you want to talk to, if you're trying to sell something. Just a minute." He set the phone down on a nearby table, and waylaid a passing worker. 

"Do you know where Relena is?"

"I just saw her, sir. Outside the compound We got our shipment of carpet supplies."

"That's good. Thank you." Zechs strode down the hallway swiftly, and met up with his sister at the door. She turned to him with a smile. 

"Milliardo!"

"Hello, Relena. Everything alright?"

"Everything's perfect! The deliveries are coming in like a dream." She sighed happily.

"I hate to trouble you, but there's a phone call—"

"Do you want me to take care of it?"

"Ah…yes, if you would."

"Alright." She smiled gently at him, and went inside. 

Zechs waited until she had rounded the corner and her footsteps had dies away, then leaned against the wall and smiled. 

Continued in next chapter…

A/N: Everyone…I am SO sorry for not updating in forever! Don't abandon me, please?… I was hit by an onslaught of business. _ Hopefully, from now on updates will be sooner… *sweatdrop* And Sally, you were my very first reviewer! I LOVE you! All of your guys' reviews make my day! *__* A happy author is a reviewed author, remember that everyone! ^_^ Until next chapter…

Next up: Relena!


	7. Relena and the Telemarketer

Relena and the Telemarketer

Relena walked down the sterile grey halls, to the phone. She picked it off the table, and said "Yes? Who is this?"

"Hello, miss!" came the perky male voice from the other end. "I'm calling to interest you in our special one-time offer! If you order today, you can receive a mint collection of hunting rifles!" In a lower tone, the man added very quickly, "Must have a gun license to purchase, must be over the age of twenty-one, certain restrictions apply. Acme Gun Company may not be held responsible for property damage or personal injury brought on by the stupidity of the gun-wielder."

Relena blinked. Then, 

"You're selling _guns_ over the _phone_?!"

"Yes, miss, and if you buy the limited-edition kit, then—" The man was oblivious to the danger he was walking in to.

"How can you sell guns to innocent people like that?!" shouted Relena. "Do you know how many people were killed in the war? How dare you peddle firearms to the public after all they've been through?!"

Around the corner, Zechs tucked his chin down and smiled a devilish smile. There was no one quite like Relena for dealing with people who wouldn't give up.

And the blonde-brown haired girl was far from done with the hapless telemarketer. "By trying to foist weapons off onto people, you could very well be destroying the world peace that everyone has worked so hard at to attain! Do you want to be responsible for the collapse of a nation that is only now gaining the stability to stand on its own?" Relena was now unconsciously posing, clutching the phone with both hands. "If you continue to engage in this sort of activity, you're no better than a criminal! How will you deal with your conscience then? Knowing that you were the cause of mass murder!"

The man seemed to be near tears. "Look, I'm only trying to do my job! I don't want to destroy world peace or anything!"

Relena took a deep breath, and began to calm herself down. "Alright. That's a step in the right direction. But you know, it is wrong to sell weapons." She eased out of her 'justice pose'.

"I don't have any other job that I can do! If I don't sell, I don't get paid, I don't eat, and I die!"

"I see. That's unfortunate." Relena pondered for a moment. _Heero would probably just kill the guy…_

"Who is this, anyway?"

"My name is Relena Peacecraft-Darlian."

_"WHAT?!"_

"And the man you talked to earlier was Milliardo Peacecraft."

The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes. Relena began to hear muttering. 

"I called _Relena_ Peacecraft-_Darlian_…I am so dead…she'll send the Lightning Count after me…might as well quit my job right now and make a break for it…hide in the woods maybe…"

"Calm down!" she exclaimed. "I'm not going to send anyone after you! But…" She almost _heard_ the man cringe. "I think that you should get a different job."

"What kind?"

"Well…what about working for me?" She tucked a stray bit of hair out of her face absently. "We always need more people to help with the restoration effort."

"You'd really let me?…"

"Of course." She slipped into a 'helping the oppressed' pose. "Everyone should have an equal opportunity for a fresh start. If you'll just give me your e-mail address, I can send you the stats on your new job, and a number you can call if you need help."

"Alright…" The man sounded completely dazed. But he managed to collect himself enough to give her his e-mail.

"Have a nice day." 

And Relena hung up.

Zechs emerged from around the corner as if he'd just walked up, instead of having lurked there the entire conversation. "How did it go?"

"We've got a new worker." Relena smiled. "I think I got him to see the error of his ways."

"That's good," replied Zechs, hiding a smile.

And they went their separate ways, he, back to the room he was painting, and she, outside to see to the shipments that were coming in.

A moment later, there was a muffled curse from Zechs' room. "It got in my _hair_…I cannot believe I got paint in my _hair_…" 

The other workers tried to hide their laughter.

A/N: Just in case anyone was wondering, I call our lovely white-haired pilot 'Zechs', instead of Milliardo because I'm going by numbers. ^_^ What did you all think? I'm not really a Relena-basher, but I don't like her either, and I think that leaked into my writing…apologies to Relena fans. *sweatdrop* And I can't thank you all enough for reviewing! *hugs* Also, to red pill—I'm mortified at being caught with such a blatant spelling error! Thank you for pointing it out to me. ^-^ Notice that I corrected it…  Revisit the mayhem in the next chapter!

Next up: Hilde!


	8. Hilde and the Telemarketer

Hilde and the Telemarketer

The young woman ran down her checklist, tapping the edge of her clipboard thoughtfully with a pencil. 

"Hmm…new supplies coming in at three…gotta remember to pick them up…oh, and a meeting with Duo at three-thirty." She slotted her pencil absently behind her ear as she strode across the lot, glancing at the piles of junk stacked in a seemingly haphazardly way around her. Everything had its place…and she knew the location of every single piece. It was, in effect, organized chaos. Much like the state of her mind at the moment.

If I'm meeting Duo at three-thirty, then I've got to make sure that I get back here with my supplies in time to drop them off and change into something decent…

The phone interrupted her internal mumbling. She hopped over a stack of old magazines and flipped the madly ringing device off its wall cradle, balancing it between her shoulder and ear, while continuing with her checklist. "Ja, Hilde."

"Good morning! I was wondering if you would answer some questions for a survey that we're doing!" chirped the woman on the other end.

Hilde paused.

Then she smiled evilly. 

This would be fun. She cleared her throat quietly.

"Ißt Ihr Raccoon meine Plätzchen?" (1)

There was a slight pause on the other end, but the woman rallied magnificently in the face of a linguistic twist. "The first question is: what kind of pencil lead do you use the most?"

"Hmmm… Dieses Dorf wird von den geisteskranken Diktatoren besetzt." (2)

"Um…" Hilde could almost feel the telemarketer's confusion. "I'll just put that down as 'don't know', shall I? The next question is: do you own any Post-It notes, and if so, how often do you use them?"

"Veranlassen karotten den himmel, purpurrot zu sein? Ich denke, daß es die tomate ist, die das problem ist." (3)

"Ok…er…" There was the sound of frantic scribbling, then "Third question: what color is the carpet in your bedroom?"

Hilde was impressed. This telemarketer was persistent. But this was such fun. "Wenn ich hübsche rosafarbene Blumen sehe, tanzen kleine Engel um mich." (4)

"Excuse me, but do you even understand a word I'm saying?"

"Die Ente sagt, daß das Eis nett ist," (5) replied Hilde cheerfully.

"Can I take that as a 'no'?"

"Gut konnten die Papageien nicht den Schnee mögen..." (6)

"I'm sorry to have bothered you. Have a nice day."

"You too."

Hilde hung up on the surprised gasp, waiting until the phone was securely on its hook before bursting into laughter. That had been quite fun. 

She took a moment to compose herself, then she went  to the chalkboard that she used to keep track of deliveries and shipments. Picking up a piece of chalk and settling into a crouch, she made a little drawing of a stick figure next to a group of others in the lower right corner of the board.

"Let's see…that makes three this month, and seven this year, eight last year, and then the year before was six, I think…" The chalk squeaked across the black surface, drawing more stick people. "And then there was Duo pretending to be a telemarketer…does that count?…" Squeak, scritch, squeak. 

"…which comes to a total of  thirty-three." She sat back on her heels.

"I'm going to need to come up with some more gag sentences."

(1) Is your raccoon eating my cookies?

(2) This village is occupied by insane dictators

(3) Are carrots what make the sky purple? I think the tomato is the problem

(4) When I see pretty pink flowers, little angels dance around me

(5) The duck says that the ice is nice

(6) Well, the parrots might not like the snow…

A/N: Whoo…fun with Babelfish. I don't really speak German (well, I _do_ know Weiß…and Kreuz… D). So, given the reliability of Babelfish, all these sentences probably are incredibly grammatically incorrect. Anyone out there know German, and want to send me the correct sentence structure? If not, then ignorance is bliss, ne? *grin* Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And the reviews! The _reviews!!_ I feel so happy… ^___^ Such wonderful people you all are. *purrs* And I'll try to keep the chapters coming! Don't forget, ideas for future characters are ALWAYS welcome…sometimes inspiration strikes in strange ways. ^_~  Ja…

Next up: Noin! 


	9. Noin and the Telemarketer

Noin and the Telemarketer

_Faster…faster…faster!_

Noin dashed along the artificial surface, feeling as though she was going to float right off the ground with the sheer momentum of her speed. But for all her effort, it simply wasn't good enough—she could see a blurred figure out of the corner of her eye getting closer…She wasn't going to make it in time…Everything seemed to be stretching out...

A sharp whistle brought her down to earth with a bump, and she stopped running, leaning over with her hands on her knees, and panting. Her racing partner was leaning against a fence, rubbing a towel over his face.

"The winner is Mr. Peacecraft, by half a second," said a man with a stopwatch.

Noin nodded over at Zechs as she went over to her bag and got out her water bottle. "You're still as fast as ever."

The blonde-white haired man took a drink from his own bottle, looking slightly silly with a towel draped over his head. "You've gotten faster, though. You almost beat me."

The two of them gathered up their things and ambled out of the track area, conversing quietly. 

"The bunker project that Relena is doing is coming along well. At the rate work is progressing, we should be done with all the buildings in section 4 by the end of the week."

"Really? Last time we talked, you said you wouldn't be finished until around the end of the month."

"Relena…has been enlisting new workers. Our force has practically doubled."

Noin wasn't blind to the subtle smugness in Zechs' voice. "Enlisting, eh?"

"Mmm." The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

He seemed about to say more, when the opening notes of Just Communication tinkled though the air. Noin blinked at him. "You or me?"

"You. I have Tooi Yoake on mine." 

The black-haired woman dug through the contents of her gym bag, finally unearthing a cell phone. There was a sticker on the back depicting something that looked suspiciously like a chibi, pale blonde-haired, blue eyed person…but she covered it with her hand quickly before Zechs got a good look at it. Smiling apologetically at him, she moved away a few feet to take the call.

"Hello, this is Noin."

"Hello, miss," said the female voice on the other end. "Did you know that this is the 75th anniversary of Konezumi Toys? In honor of this occasion, they've commissioned a special, once-in-a-lifetime offer doll. It can be yours for the simple price of $7.99, plus shipping and handling."

"Oh really." Noin glanced back at Zechs. He was staring around at the scenery, and didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry. "And what does this toy look like?"

"It's been modeled after the mascot of Konezumi." The woman's voice changed slightly, as if she were reading off a list. "Stands approximately 7 inches tall, does not move, does not fly, does not talk, no batteries required."

"I see." Noin glanced back at Zechs again. And smiled slightly. "How soon do you ship?"

"We can ship it overnight for an additional $2.99."

"Perfect. I'll take it." She gave the woman her account number, and hung up, stifling an entirely out-of-character mischievous chuckle.

~~The next day~~

"What did you call me here for?" asked Zechs curiously.

Noin smiled. "Remember my birthday, when you got me a Badtz-Maru doll?…"

"I'd thought you'd forgotten about that…" mumbled Zechs, looking away. Then he looked back, slightly worried. "What about it?…"

"This is revenge." And she handed him a box.

He opened it slowly, as if he was afraid it might bite him. Knowing Noin's revenge, it just might. Finally, he unwrapped…

…a plushie. Of a rat. With a big grin, and even bigger sunglasses. He blinked.

Noin laughed. "Serves you right. Next time maybe you'll take Relena's advice on buying gifts."

A/N: *twirls a blender idly on one finger* I got a prize! My thanks to aquajogger. *grin* The Konezumi Toys company doesn't exist—I made it all up. *goes into lecture mode* The name "konezumi" is made of 'ko' – 'child', and 'nezumi', 'rat'. So I guess you could translate it as the Baby Rat Toys company. *laughs* What do they call young rats anyway? Ratlings?… 0_o *cough* Never mind. ^_^U On another note, for those of you who don't know, Tooi Yoake (Faraway Dawn) is Zech's image song. ^_~ 

Ah, reviews. They make everything so wonderful… ^___^ I never thought so many people could like what I write. ^-^ Amazing. In addition, thanks to Berserker for reading through this before I posted it. *hugs* Well, take care, all, and see you in the next chapter! And remember: reviews are like candy. Some are sweet, some are sour, but we can never get enough of them!

Next up: Catherine!


	10. Catherine and the Telemarketer

Catherine and the Telemarketer

"Those go to the big tent over there. Careful with that! That goes to the Props section." Catherine stood in the middle of chaos, directing the flow of people around her like a policeman. Whenever the circus moved to a new location, there was always a frenzied rush to set things up in time for the first performance, and at the moment, it seemed even more panicked than ever before. 

Over the increasing din, Catherine heard a steadily growing noise, shrill and insistent.

"My phone! Does anyone know where my phone is?!" A tumbler launched himself past her, and chucked the small device at her in mid-spin, giving it about the speed of a mini-projectile. "Thanks!" She snatched it and hit the TALK button,

"This is Catherine."

"Hello, ma'am! We were wondering if you were interested in our latest product!" The voice changed slightly, sounding more like a commercial than anything. "For years and years people all over the world have lamented their inability to produce a decent meal. Our top scientists have come up with a solution that boggles the mind! Now, for an exclusive offer – an easy payment of $39.99, you can own the modern marvel of literature, _Cooking Anything out of Anything, Anytime, Anywhere!_ scientifically proven to increase your culinary abilities by at least fifty percent!"

Catherine stared at her phone. " 'Scientifically proven'? I _hate_ scientists! They took Trowa away, after all. And don't you think that price is a little extreme? I'll give you $20."

"Ma'am, I'm afraid we can't haggle the price…" said the young man on the other end, sounding slightly surprised.

"Oh don't be silly. You want to sell your product, don't you? Be reasonable. $25."

"I can't sell it for less than it's worth!"

"Young man, it's a _book_. Not an antique. Maybe if it was from, say, the Edo period, I'd consider $40."

"$39.99."

"One cent doesn't really matter all that much. $30. And I won't go any higher."

"_Ma'am!_ I can't _do_ that!"

"If you can't, then get me someone who can! Come on, I'm a busy person!" Catherine grinned. This was proving to be fun.

Trowa came up behind her, and when she turned, he mouthed _Who is it?_

_Telemarketer._

He nodded, and quite possibly, grinned at her.

In the mean time, the telemarketer was having a hurried, whispered conversation with someone on his end. Catherine pressed the phone to her ear, and caught snatches of 

_"…said that she'd buy it for $30!…"_

_"…prices…can't change…anyone…"_

_"…-f…BUYS it…"_

_"You'll have to tell…that we…-n't."_

As the conversation ended, she pulled the phone away so she wouldn't be deafened when the man spoke.

"Um…ma'am…my superior says that we cannot negotiate the price. I'm sorry."

She laughed silently. "That's ok. I never intended to buy it anyway." She hung up. "My cooking is perfect already."

Out of her sight, Trowa made an incredulous face of disbelief. 

A/N:  O_O As of this posting, 147 reviews! WHOO!!! *throws confetti* I love you all so much! ^___^ A note - Have any of you noticed that both Quatre and Zechs have blonde hair and blue eyes? So cute… In my previous chapter, I was actually implying that it was a Zechs sticker on Noin's phone. Sorry if this caused some confusion…it's not MY fault if there are two adorable look-alikes on the show! ^_^ Credit for this chapter getting up at an early time goes to Berserker, who came up with the cookbook idea. *glomp* Thankies! And thanks go to all of you wonderful, supportive people who keep on reviewing! Reviews are a story's lifeblood, you know. ^_~ Now, everyone, look forward to the next chapter!

Next up: Lady Une!


	11. Une and the Telemarketer

Une and the Telemarketer

The shrill sound of an alarm clock cut through the sleepy, thick silence of the bedroom. A hand emerged from underneath the covers and slowly grasped the frantically buzzing clock, drawing it beneath the bedspread with predatory intent. The noise stopped a moment later, and a disheveled head emerged, blinking.

This was a side of the Lady Une that few had seen. Or at least, if they had seen it, they hadn't lived very long afterwards. Her hair was a tangled mass that floated around her head like some alien cloud, and there were wrinkle marks on her cheek from sleeping on the pillow. In addition, her eyes didn't seem to be focusing very well.

She made her slightly weaving way to the master bathroom, where a moment later there came the sounds of running water. After a moment, there was a splash.

"Ahhhh…"

Une relaxed in her spacious bathtub, sinking down into the scented bubble-bath-laden water until only the top half of her face (her hair was of course, carefully pinned onto her head. It wouldn't do to get it in the bubble-bath. She'd take a special bath later just for it.) could be seen above the pink, fluffy froth. A click of a button, and the strains of a violin playing classical music wafted through the room. 

"Much better." She leaned back, resting her head against the porcelain edge of the tub, and was just about to get really comfy…

…when the phone rang. (You all saw that coming, right? Please tell me you saw that coming.)

Several words left Une's lips that certainly no true lady should utter. She plucked the offending item off its cradle by the edge of the tub, and barked "What?" in such a way that one would have thought her hair was already in buns.

"Good morning, ma'am!"

"So you say," snorted Une bad-temperedly. "It _was_…"

The man on the other end paused to collect himself, then continued. "I'm calling to inform you about the release of an award-winning, best-selling, new book! It's called _Me, Myself, And Everyone Else In Here_, and focuses upon the life…well…lives, I suppose you could say, of a schizophrenic with an acute case of multiple personalities. This touching story will have you reaching for the tissues and the phone as you call all your friends and tell them about it! And for the super-low price of $29.99, it can be yours! Moderate shipping and handling fees, BooKS Inc. cannot be held responsible for any shipments lost in the mail."

"…" Une stared at the phone. _What in the name of?…_ "What makes you think that I would need a book like that?" she demanded. Then, on a cruel whim, added, "Yes, what?"

It was the man's turn to fall silent. "Er…I don't think this was supposed to contain any hints or anything…"

"I'll tell you what. I'll let you off with a dunking."

And she dropped the phone into the bath.

A moment later, she had a scrub brush in one hand, and a soap dish in the other. She proceeded to whack the side of the tub viciously with both. 

Sound carries well underwater, especially in a tub of porcelain (which was getting rather scratched up), and we can only imagine the kinds of noises that the poor telemarketer was subjected to. He didn't hang on for long, though, and a few minutes later when Une dunked her head under the water, all she heard a dial tone.

"Such will be the way all who disturb me in the bath will be dealt with," she muttered, tossing the phone back onto its cradle. "Where was I?…" She leaned back and relaxed, a rather smug smile gracing her features.

On the other side of the bathroom door, Treize slowly lowered his hand from a knocking position and crept away (insofar as much as a distinguished man creeps) without a sound.

A/N: I LIVE!! *pose* And I managed to crank out a chapter during a lull in homework, just for all you wonderful people who give me so much support! (Feel loved yet? You should. ^_~) BTW, there is no such book as _Me, Myself And Everyone Else In Here_, nor is there a company called BooKS Inc.Was reading through the old reviews, and I just couldn't stand not to turn out another chapter with all the inspiration and encouragement sloshing around. I recommend to any writers that have writers block to read old reviews. Amazing the effect they have… ^_^ I LOVE YOU ALL! And don't let your hope fade, Althe! As long as I'm still alive, this story will update to the very end! *poses again*  Until the next update, everyone!

Please leave a review

And tell me if you liked it

But don't drink any punch

I think that Duo spiked it

Next up: Dorothy! FEAR THE BROWS! 


	12. Dorothy and the Telemarketer

Dorothy and the Telemarketer

It was a beautiful autumn day. Birds were singing cheerfully, the sun was shining, a soft breeze was blowing, and there was an overall sense of picture-perfectness. 

This was a guarantee that something was about to go wrong.

Within one of the many extravagant rooms of her mansion, ensconced in an armchair that was more like a throne, Dorothy regarded the peaceful woodlands and smirked a pretty little smirk, stroking a finger along one of her strangely-shaped eyebrows. Peaceful…that place was too peaceful. She would have to go stir it up…perhaps take a couple cats and a couple more guns and wreak havoc on the avian inhabitants… The options were endless.

Her musings of feathered destruction were interrupted by a ringing sound. Rather than containing all the shrill tones of a normal phone, this ring practically oozed coy evilness. She'd programmed it herself.

Languidly, she reached over the arm of the chair, and flipped the cell phone off the little table next to her, landing it neatly in the crook of her shoulder, depressing a button with a perfectly manicured fingernail. 

"This is Dorothy, what can I do to you?"

"Hello, miss. I'm Midii Une, representing SpyAccessories Inc., here to tell you about our newest product."

"SpyAccessories, hmm?" Dorothy pulled a bottle of blood-red fingernail polish out of thin air, and began shaking it. "Continue."

"Thank you! Now, as you know, the profession of the spy is a long and arduous one. It's very difficult to get a piece of equipment that is easily concealed."

"That's certainly true." Dorothy didn't mention her collection of spy tools squirreled away in an inner room of the mansion. 

"Which is why we've come up with the newest model of the spy world! The Spy Necklace and Game System, version 5.00008! Taking on the guise of an innocent game that is worn around the neck, with the ability to transmit information over up to ten kilometers, the SNaG System is entirely reliable." Midii coughed. "SpyAccessories is not responsible for the capture, imprisonment and/or torture of spies who use these products."

"Really." Now the nail polish was being applied carefully and smoothly over the perfect nails. "Do they come in colors?"

"Of course! The SNaG System possesses a transmutable exterior that can be programmed to any color you desire."

Dorothy held a hand up to the light, and examined it critically. When the polish passed muster, she lowered her hand, and said "It will be obvious if you sold a lot of these to a lot of people. They would pop up everywhere."

"And we have taken this into account. You, miss, are the only one to receive this exclusive offer! We are selling a variety of different products, each one different from the last. No two look alike, but all possess the same function."

"Clever." The blonde smiled. "You wouldn't happen to know who the president of this company is, would you?"

"I do know, actually. It is a Ms. Dorothy Catalonia. Why, miss?" asked Midii, slightly confused.

Dorothy leaned back in the chair, and capped the bottle of nail polish. "Oh, no reason. I think I'll pass on getting anything. After all, I'm not really _in_ the spy business." She smirked slightly. "At the moment."

"Are you sure? I know there has to be something that—"

"Oh no, nothing. You just keep doing your job. But do me a favor…look up this number."

There was a slight pause as Midii crosschecked the phone number in the company database, then a muffled, and more than slightly panicked "Eep!" as her screen revealed the owner of the number.

"It's alright," said Dorothy, before her flustered employee could say anything. "I'm glad my company is working so efficiently." She set the bottle of polish on the table next to her chair. "Good luck with your sales." And she hung up.

It really was a beautiful autumn day. The blonde-haired woman gazed out the window with a small, slightly evil smile, and thought of all the things that she could do to make Quatre flustered when she 'accidentally' ran into him at the next diplomatic party. 

A/N: Whew, it's been a while. *sheepish look* I've been stewing over ideas, but have been too busy/lazy/both to post. Plus, it took me a while to finish writing this. Want any more excuses? *nervous laugh* I've got plenty… But seriously. ^_^ To Lady D, I say: there's Midii. And she was just perfect, too, so thanks for suggesting it. *grin* To Berserker: kudos for thinking up Midii's place in the story. And to all my reviewers: many thanks for all your fabulous, lovely (insert adjective of your choice here) comments. ^___^

Next up: Treize!

This updated chapter is new

And I put it up here just for you

Now, for my peace of mind

If you'd be so kind

Please leave a review behind, do!


	13. Treize and the Telemarketer

Treize and the Telemarketer

Within a small garden situated on a beach house's property, a tall figure moved gracefully through the thriving plants. He was wearing a sunhat and gardening gloves, carrying a nasty-looking pair of clippers, and his face and hands were smudged with loam.

His name was Treize Khushrenada, and in his current state of attire and appearance, no one would have recognized him.

At the moment, the brilliant strategist had one thing on his mind: the taming of his rose bushes. He slipped deftly among the thorn-covered branches, the clippers in his hand darting out to snick off a bit here, a length there… Pausing, he bent over a bloom, murmuring to it and himself.

"You…you are grown for the ladies…your shape and color enchants them. And you," turning to another bush, "are for the younger girls, whom you capture with your fresh and pure beauty. You," bending to cradle a drooping spray in one hand, "are perfect for small tokens of affection, whereas your neighbor here embodies all the characteristics of a bold and brazen statement." He cast an approving glance around at his garden. Being Treize, he of course knew the language of roses, but being Treize, he also knew the culture, habits, diets, and anything else you could possibly imagine about roses.

The monologue continued. "You, with your fragile coloring, present a delicate face to the world that nevertheless hides a powerful message of strength. And you—"

_Ring._

"…are irritating."

_Ring._

This last comment was not directed at the poor, innocent flowering bush; rather it was aimed at a phone (yellow, with a stenciled rose motif) situated unobtrusively on a table in a corner of the garden. Treize strode up to it, mumbling to himself.

"I thought for sure I switched it to silent mode…" Picking it up, he took the call with a curt "Treize."

"Good day, Mr. Treize! You might have noticed what a lovely day it is today! It's the perfect opportunity to go out and garden!"

"…I am ahead of you on that. What do you want?"

"I'm calling to interest you in a new brand of rose fertilizer: Bloom'n'Grow! Using this new, improved brand will increase your rose plant's durability and productivity like you've never seen before! And if you order now, we'll send you a second bag of Bloom'n'Grow, absolutely free!"

Treize took a moment to note that every sentence the man had spoken had ended in an exclamation point, then raised a bifurcated eyebrow. "You do realize that you cannot really market a product like that with a guarantee for every plant it works on. Roses in different stages have different needs. For instance, my roses are well-established, and have been so for many years. Does this Bloom'n'Grow contain the proper amounts of cottonseed meal?"

"Er…"

"Are there adequate amounts of triple superphosphate?"

"Um, I'm not quite su—"

"What about soil sulfur? Roses are particularly partial to acidic soil, you know. They simply won't be able to function as well if they can't absorb the nutrients they need."

"Sir, I really have no idea about any of that…I'm just trying to market the product…"

Treize allowed himself a small smile. "I think you would have better luck trying elsewhere." A sudden thought came to mind, and his smile grew. The people across the street from him had mocked his roses on several occasions… "I happen to know of some…very good friends of mine, however, who would be interested. But they make a practice of being tough customers, so you'll have to keep at them long enough for them to see your mettle if you want them to buy the product, alright?" He gave the man the number, said a polite goodbye, and hung up the phone.

Quickly, he slipped through the bushes towards the street-side of the house, and listened carefully.

And heard the ringing of a phone within the house across the street.

Treize smiled.

A/N: OH MY KAMI, THE STORY LIVES!!!!

Well, it never really died…just went into a coma for, oh...four months or so. Eheh. It seems that the closer I get to the end, the longer it takes me to put up a chapter. Sorry! I will NOT let this story die…it will continue to its preordained conclusion, and then stop. Sadly, this will occur in the next chapter. u.u Information on rose food was found via websurfing, as I'm not THAT obsessive of a gardener. Due to a suggestion made WAY way back by a reviewer, I may make a side story for chapter 2, detailing what went on after Duo hung up the phone. Should I? Do give feedback on this point, please. :D And thank you, all you people out there, for reviewing so far! Just one more chapter to go!

Next up: Sally!


	14. Sally and the Telemarketer

Sally and the Telemarketer

A fire crackled merrily behind its grate in a cozy hearth. Deep mahogany-colored walls boasted bookshelves crammed with volumes, new and old. There was an aura of quietude in this room, of undisturbed tranquility.

In front of the fireplace was a large red armchair that almost looked throne-like. Ensconced within its cushy depths was Sally Po, once-fighter, now finding peace within the pages of a book. At present, she was deep in the middle of _War and Peace_, oblivious to the world.

_Riiiiiing_

Or at least, she HAD been oblivious to the world. With an almost imperceptible sigh, she bookmarked her place and lifted the antique receiver.

"Yes?"

"Hey, Miss Po, this is Ruby Moon. I'm calling for Master Eriol. He says he wants his chair back."

"Well tell him I'm not done with it," Sally retorted, snuggling further down into it. "HE was the one who suggested the most soothing atmosphere as one in a comfy chair in a library in front of a fireplace. I'm not finished being soothed." Her own armchair, a lumpy relic scavenged from a thrift shop, sat forlornly in the corner, position temporarily usurped by the sleeker replacement.

There was a muttered conversation on the other end of the line. Then Ruby Moon came back. "Can you at least return it by the weekend? He needs it to look intimidating for some people."

"Oh, sure. I'll see you then." They exchanged goodbyes and she replaced the phone in its cradle.

"Now, where was I…"

But no sooner had she removed her bookmark than the phone emitted its shrill tones again. She picked it up with a bit less patience than before.

"Ruby, I SAID I would—"

"Good afternoon, miss! You sound like the type that would like a good book! I'm calling to interest you in our unique offer!"

Sally pondered what kind of skills could determine a preference for literature by voice alone, then responded "I do like books, yes, but—"

"We have on our hands a copy of a newly translated version of Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_! And it can be yours for the completely reasonable price of $2.99 butwe'llreamyouontheshippingfees. So place your order today!"

Sally thought for a moment. "This wouldn't happen to be the miniature edition? Or perhaps the Shambala Classics release? Or the Special Edition? Or the Classics of Ancient China release? Or, wait…the New Translation? That one isn't new, you know, it came out YEARS ago."

There was a poignant silence on the other end. Then, hesitantly, as if digging himself out from under a pile of words, the man replied "Actually, it's _The Art of War for Women_, it's a book on how women can make smart choices at work and stuff. We have to say that it's just _The Art of War_ to catch people's attention or something."

"The art of war. For women. For WORK?" Sally started laughing. "I've already fought in a war. I don't need a book on it. Besides, you can't shoot someone at work if they don't get a project done. Or at least, you can't anymore." The man made a slightly intimidated sound. "Anyways, thank you for the heads-up, but I don't think I'll be interested."

She paused, a devilish thought flitting through her head.

"Although, actually, I think there might be someone I know who's interested. Here's their number." Rattling it off, she wished him luck and hung up.

Then she sat there giggling for a while before going back to her book.

And in a secluded house deep in the mountains, Wufei's brand-new phone began to ring.

A/N: WELL. I think about three and a half years is plenty long procrastination on this. Good grief, I posted the last chapter in my first year of CC and now I've graduated from the university. major sweatdropping The idea for this was largely influenced by the fact that I now work at both a library and a bookstore. booooks… All versions of _The Art of War_ were taken from an search. Master Eriol and Ruby Moon are of course from Cardcaptor Sakura…as well as the Red Chair of Looming.

To all reviewers, past, present, and future: You have made/make/will make my day. It's such an awesome feeling to see the little notification in my e-mail. :D You're all the best ever!

So (FINALLY) concludes the saga of the Telemarketers! You've been a wonderful audience! Thank you and goodnight. XD

(bows, applause, curtain falls)


End file.
